


welcome to the impasse

by fictionplagued



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, I hate tagging, More Sex, Oral Sex, Smut, and some fluff, anita is just an angsty lonely beeb ok, awks, hooooo BOY, lmao help me tag this i am a mess, lots of angst jesus, lots of sex lmaooo, questionable marital status
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7454845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionplagued/pseuds/fictionplagued
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anita knew she shouldn’t have worn a jumpsuit. It was a stupid lapse in judgement. Of course, she appreciated that it looked incredible, and her confidence was through the roof, strutting about in said blush pink jumpsuit and nude heels, but she still wished she had just stuck it out with the norm and worn a little black dress. At least then, she could just bunch it up at the waist when she decided it was time for a good fuck.<br/>He was going to rip it and she would make him pay every penny for it if he did. It didn’t matter that she was too tipsy to even remember his name, let alone sue him for ripping her personalized Vera Wang jumpsuit, she would still do it. Anita Warner did not work her ass off, listening to whining celebrity couples just for some very, very scrumptious man to rip the jumpsuit that cost more than she would admit, in half.<br/>She really didn't know the jumpsuit was the least of her problems when Chris Evans's tiny waist and filthy mouth entered her life. If only someone had warned her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hickey

**Author's Note:**

> hi friends so this is a fic. talk to me blushingbinch.tumblr.com :-)

She knew she shouldn’t have worn a jumpsuit. It was a stupid lapse in judgment. Of course, she appreciated that it looked incredible, and her confidence was through the roof, strutting about in said blush pink jumpsuit and nude heels, but she still wished she had just stuck it out with the norm and worn a little black dress. At least then, she could just bunch it up at the waist when she decided it was time for a good fuck.

He was going to rip it and she would make him pay  _every_  penny for it if he did. It didn’t matter that she was too tipsy to even remember his name, let alone sue him for ripping her personalized Vera Wang jumpsuit, she would still do it. Anita Warner did  _not_  work her ass off, listening to whining celebrity couples just for some very  _very_  scrumptious man to rip the jumpsuit that cost more than she would admit, in half.

“Jesus—” She breathed, pushing him back a bit. “Hey, hey, hey. Gentle, this is Vera Wang.”

He chuckled, wiping his mouth. It wasn’t much help since there was dark cranberry lipstick all down his jaw and the side of his neck. “Sorry.”

“S'okay. Wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,”

“You won’t be missed too much?”

“Nope.” He answered quickly, latching his lips back to her neck.

She bit her lip, before letting out a small moan. “Fuck…” She panted. “You sure? You’re not the groom on something, right. I’m too drunk to tell.”

His laughter echoed in the darkness of the coat room. “No. I’m not.”

“What did you say your name was?” Anita knew she rambled when she was drunk, but apparently this only amused her partner.

“I didn’t.”

“Right.”

He pulled her out of the coat room with ease, as she happily tagged along. “Come on. Let’s go. Your place or mine?”

“Mine’s good.”

“I can’t stay the night.” He said, apologetically, as they approached a taxi.

She looked confused. “Didn’t expect you too. This is a one time thing, if you hadn’t gathered. I have work in the morning.”

“You work Sundays?”

“Yeah. Lots of clients.” She said simply, shrugging.

“What do you do?”

“Doesn’t matter. Point being, you’ll be long gone in the morning, correct?”

He smirked. “Yes ma'am.”

“Sounds perfect.”

They got to Anita’s house and successfully made it to the couch. To an extent. Unfortunately her bed was left untouched, and since he was bigger than her sofa, they ended up falling and fucking on the floor. He’d probably have some scuff marks on his back in the morning, and some serious hickeys on his clavicle. She had made an effort to mark him red right near the spot on his chest where he had something inked in black. He didn’t complain, she noticed, the opposite, in fact, though this wasn’t too surprising.

As she had hoped he was gone in the morning. He did leave a note though, which surprised her.

_Had a great time last night. -C._

Anita smiled at the gesture, before giving the note a quick crumple and tossed it.

-

Now if work wasn’t already slow enough on a Sunday afternoon, her clients  _had_  to be late too. Not even by a couple minutes. Half an hour late. Anita leaned back in the large black armchair in her office and huffed out an exasperated breath. If celebrities didn’t pay so much, she’d probably complain. It was almost 2:30 and she was about to deem her 2:00 appointment a no-show. Reaching into her purse to grab her phone, she dialed her clients.

“Hello?” The woman picked up immediately, breathless.

“Hi! Lucille Evans?” Anita asked.

“Yeah, this is her.”

“This is Dr. Anita Warner, I have you and your husband booked today at 2:00 for marriage counseling? We do have a strict policy on cancellations that have not been previously notified, and unfortunately—”

“Fuck!” Lucille cursed, under her breath mainly, “I know, I know, I’m so sorry! It’s just that.” She heaved another sigh, “I’m trying to get my husband to even show up. He’s not exactly being cooperative. Is there any way I could reschedule to 3:00 today?”

“I’m sorry, Lucille, but we’re fully booked—”

“I’ll pay double whatever they’re paying.  _Please._ ” She begged.

Anita clicked her tongue. Pondering for a second, more so to increase the stress in Lucille than anything, she finally spoke.

“I suppose that could work. I’ll see you at 3:00 then.”

“Sounds perfect. Thank you so much.”

She hung up and waited. One more appointment with one more screaming couple and then she was free. For the day at least. Ten years of post-secondary education to listen to a bunch of celebrities sob over their shitty spouses and all the infidelity you could possibly imagine.

At about 3:05 Anita could hear her receptionist, Madeline, on the other side of the office door, explaining to her newest clients the policies and the confidentiality that their facility offered, the waiver that they had to sign so they wouldn’t sue if they ended up getting a divorce and so on. It was the usual spiel and once that was over, there was the usual soft knock on the door.

“Come in.”

“Hey, the 3:00 is here.”

Anita straightened up. “Course. Send them in. Also, Maddie could you do me a favor and give Jeanine a call? I need to reschedule my hair appointment since this won’t be done in time.” She dug around for the card. “Thank you so much.”

Madeline laughed, grabbing the business card that Anita had walked around the table to hand to her. “No problem. Have fun.” She said sarcastically.

“Of  _course_  I will.” Maddie left, and before Anita’s new clients stepped in, she made an effort to straighten out her dress and ensure no possible spinach was stuck between her teeth from the pasta she had eaten for lunch.

Less than thirty seconds later a blonde woman, who Anita immediately recognized to be actress Lucille Patricks entered, followed by who Anita assumed to be her husband, a tall brunette with a beard. He looked vaguely familiar, but so did most white guys in Hollywood.

“Hi guys I’m Dr. Warner,” She stretched out her hand to shake Lucille’s, who smiled graciously in return.

“Hi Doc, this is my husband, Chris,”

Chris didn’t smile. Just shook her hand politely and gave her a curt nod before sitting down on the chair next to his wife. Anita thought nothing of it. She was used to this, so she brushed it off. One half of the married couple was always a little hostile. _He probably just hasn’t had sex in like a seven months._ She thought to herself. _Maybe he’s impotent,_  she speculated.  _That usually leads to marital issues and counseling. No need to take it out on me, though, dickhead._

Chris shifted his position and his unbuttoned Henley shifted to the side, revealing his pale clavicle, a memorable tattoo and a bright red hickey.

Anita’s eyes widened and her clipboard slipped through her fingers and clattered onto the floor.

 _Scratch that. He’s definitely_ not _impotent, then._


	2. Floor Burn

Lucille and Chris both reached for the fallen clipboard, but Anita was fastest, hastily snatching it back up, and recovering her composure quickly. She couldn’t help be a little flustered. It’s not everyday you end up an accessory to your client’s adulterous escapades 

“Sorry.” She chuckled, nervously, to say the least. “Sundays are ridiculous.” Lucille returned Anita’s smile with a weak smile of her own, and Chris simply raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment of Anita’s attempt to lighten the hostile environment in the room.

He didn’t show a single sign of recollection. Anita attributed this to perhaps he was either oblivious or an excellent actor. Or too hungover and irritated to notice, or was too drunk in the first place to remember. This bruised her ego, a little. She was rather proud and was honestly a bit offended her performance had not been memorable enough to throw him off even the slightest.

“Anyways, let’s get started then, shall we?” She asked, sitting down and grabbing a fresh page to take notes. “So.” She decided it best to jump right into business. “How long have you two been together, and how long have you been married?”

“Six years. Married for two.” Lucille answered first, shifting in her seat, and playing with her fingers. Chris didn’t speak, just grunted in agreement. The sound brought back fond memories. Anita mentally cursed tequila.

She nodded, nonetheless, before asking “Alright, and when did you feel that marriage counseling was a priority? Or a better, simpler question may be, why do you both feel you’re here?” _Is it because your husband is cheating scum…?_

Chris scoffed and Anita took a quick intake of breath, fearing she had voiced her remark out loud. Lucille gave him a fleeting glare.

“Well… I…” Lucille began, but Chris cut her off, speaking for the first time.

“Probably when Lucille decided to fuck Orlando Bloom. So a little over a month ago. Give or take.” He spat, bitterly. 

_Oh._

“Holy shit. So his divorce was finalized, I take it?” Anita blurted, before thinking, receiving a glare from Chris. _Relevance, Anita, please_.

She cleared her throat.

“Right, sorry. Okay…” She started, hesitantly, processing this new found information. “So here’s the thing. Whenever couple’s attempt to mend their relationship after some form of infidelity, we need to work together to find the root cause of the issue. So, Lucille tell me, what exactly do you think were the circumstances that led to this outcome-“ 

Chris cut her off again, laughing humorlessly before snarling.“This is bullshit.”

“Chris, _please.”_ Lucille hissed.

“No. It’s fucking bull.” Chris angrily crossed his arms over his chest, a stern look of disdain towards his wife never leaving his face. “I have to sit here and listen to you delve into why _I’m_ the reason you went and fucked someone else? Fuck that.”

_I mean… In her defense… Orlando fucking Bloom…_

“Chris, Lucille,” Anita tried to cut in. 

“Call me Lucy.” Lucy gave her a weak smile that Anita returned, politely before continuing her typical speech, one that she had reiterated so many times to so many clients.

“Well, _Lucy_ , but Chris, in particular, I understand your reluctance but in these cases we aren’t trying to pin any blame on anyone, just establishing a form of healthy and needed communication—" 

“Do you though?” He snapped, leaning back in his chair. “Do you _really_ understand what the hell I’m going through? My wife cheats on me, then quite literally forces me against my will to this bullshit, and now I’m painted as the bad guy?”

“No one’s calling you the bad guy here, Chris.” Anita attempted to pacify him, but secretly craved to confront the cheating bastard. _It’s not like you didn’t cheat too!_ But apparently Lucy beat her to it.

“You fucked some whore last night.” She said bluntly. “So don’t play the victim card, Chris. You’re not all innocent. Plus, you didn’t even let me answer the question.”

Anita bit her tongue, staying clear of not only exposing the fact _she_ had been an accessory to one of her client’s infidelities, but also yelling at the other client’s apparent need to slut shame. _She’s just mad. Nothing to take personally. Still, I mean, I was fucking single, if anyone’s a whore it’s your stupid hubby._

“Yeah, well we’re separated.” Chris spoke. “I’m not technically cheating, but you did. What you did was fucked up. I already expressed my desire for a divorce. And I never lied about sleeping around after our separation.”

Lucy bit her bottom lip when he said divorce and Anita could tell she was on the verge of tears. Anita reached over to her desk, grabbed the customary tissue box and handed it to Lucy, and saw out of the corner of her eye, Chris flinched seeing his wife cry.

 "Look. I completely understand both of your positions on this, but instead of going to lawyers, you’re both here. Even if it’s not your immediate desire, you _did_ make the effort to be here, and that shows a lot. It takes a lot of of commitment and love to even come to something like marriage counseling, and that in itself shows that you both obviously still think, even if it’s the slightest chance, that your marriage can survive this.“

 For the first time, Chris’ face lightened up the slightest.

 "Chris,” She continued, “your concerns are valid, but what you must understand is that Lucy nor myself are trying to paint you as any sort of villain. It’ll do wonders for both of you to just allow the hostility to ease up and communicate what you really want to say to each other. Obviously this isn’t going to happen overnight, but be patient with each other.”

 Chris sighed. “This is still bull.”  He grumbled.

Anita looked over at the clock to her left. There was still a good 20 minutes left in this appointment, that she could _not_ weasel her way out of, since Lucy was now paying her a ridiculous amount of money…

“Let’s start with you two in general, then.” She said, and Lucy perked up. “Lucy, tell me what you love most about Chris. What first drew you to him when you met?” Anita internally cringed at these questions, every time. They were so ridiculously sappy. Perhaps because she was tired of seeing cheating assholes trying to make up for their shit via squabbling over how beautiful their spouse was.

 Needless to say, Lucy didn’t surprise her.

 "His eyes.“ She said, now staring at him, as if she was locked in a trance. “We met through mutual friends and I just looked up at him, and I knew he was the one. His eyes are such a beautiful blue.” Anita wanted to roll _her_ eyes, but she refrained.

 Chris didn’t look at his wife. Just dropped his head.

 "Chris?“ Anita asked, “what about for you?”

He didn’t look up as he spoke. “Her laugh. Her nose scrunches when she laughs. Thought it was cute.” He said it plainly, as though he was talking about the weather, without emotion. And he didn’t elaborate any further.

“Well this is a good start.” Anita said, “I have a task I need both of you to complete for next week’s appointment. Write down ten things you love and then ten things you don’t love about one another. We’ll go over them and elaborate further next week.”

“I heard counseling works best when we both also come separately at a different time?” Lucy asked. Chris groaned. 

“No.” He stated, simply.

Anita hesitated. Being alone with Chris was not going to be a decision she made out of choice again. “Right. Well… Yes… Technically, statistics have shown couples who do separate therapy sessions alongside the marital counseling have had the greatest rate of continuing their marriage…” She wanted to cry out for help, “Actually, I can refer you both to someone else, extremely capable, for this.” She attempted, but Lucy wouldn’t have it.

“No, no! If we come to you separately and together, that would make the most sense. You’d know our feelings inside and out. Besides, you’re the best in the field.”

Anita cleared her throat again. “True. Very true. Alright, well this has been a good session, I’ll let Madeline know to book you both in separately for next week.”

“Thank you so much.” Lucy offered again, Anita waved it off, smiling.

“Of course.”

As the three of them arose to make their way to the door, Lucy turned to her husband and gave him a weak smile.

“I’ll see you then, yeah?” She asked.

He simply nodded, pursing his lips. Lucy sighed, giving Anita a wave, before leaving the room.

Chris then stopped abruptly, after his wife was out the door, several feet ahead of him, and out of ears reach.

He brought his lips to Anita’s ear, Lucy’s view blocked by the large office door. He nipped Anita’s earlobe before growling, “next time, _you’re_ the one getting killer floor burn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talk to me blushingbinch.tumblr.com


	3. Mess

“Fuck!” Anita jumped. She turned sharply, and Chris’ hand that had travelled up the back of her skirt, and pinched her ass, was now up in surrender. 

He had been smirking, but when he saw the glare that graced Anita’s once lovely features, his grin faltered, and his eyes widened.

“What?” He asked, still holding his arms. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night?”

She paused a moment to catch her breath. “No. You’re right. I wasn’t.” She turned around to close the office door., before she turned back to him to screech, “that was before I figured out you were _married!”_

Chris’ expression remained unconcerned. “Yeah? And?”

“Yeah? _Yeah?!_ That’s _all you have to say? Yeah?”_

He groaned. “Come on. You heard Lucy. She knows I’m fucking around. It’s not like I’m _actually_ cheating. We’re separated. No big deal.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. Now he looked like a pouting, very tall, very buff five year old.

“You’re still married. You’re going to fucking couple’s therapy. It’s still cheating.” She had stalked towards him and they were now practically nose to nose, only Anita had to crick her neck to glare up at him.

“I _told_ you I don’t have any intention of staying in this marriage.” He shrugged. Leaning down, so his lips hovered above hers for a moment, before melting into a kiss. They moved tantalizingly slow, and her fingers curled the fabric of his t-shirt in her hand, tugging him closer. He whispered between long kisses,“last night was fun. Let’s do that again. You know the thing you did with your tongue?” He slipped his tongue in her mouth, and then pulled away, “I’m still seeing stars—”

To say her guard was down was an understatement. Everything about his presence was fucking with her head and she couldn’t believe it. Before she could regain control again, she pulled him close to her, and then realized her mistake immediately. “Nope!” She pushed him back slightly and he stopped, whined and wiped his mouth.

“You’re still married, this is still cheating and if we do this again I’m a mistress!”

Chris quirked an eyebrow. “A mistress. I can work with that.” He said, teasingly.

Anita ignored him, instead she paced around the room ranting, “—and if you end up dead they _always_ blame it on the mistress, and I’m too young and hot to go to prison! And I’m brown, so they always send you to prison for twice as long, which is a whole other level of fucked up,” She continued her pacing, flinging her arms around for emphasis and hounding Chris every couple words to keep him on edge. 

“Who’s they?”

“—but basically I have no intent of fucking you again, despite how incredibly hot you might be. Got it?” She ended her rant with a freshly manicured finger stabbing him in the chest, accusingly.

Chris looked dumbfounded. “Sure?” He said, laughing. “Why am I dying? Is that the only reason we can’t screw around? Because you’ll go to prison if I end up dead?“ 

“Yes.” Anita blurted. “No wait, no! I mean, no. Not the only reason.”

“You know I can hire you a great lawyer. Get out on a plea deal.” He said, slowly taking large strides towards her and backing her up against the wall.

“Shut up.” She could literally feel her apprehension and morality slipping through her fingertips when she watched his tongue slip out of his mouth and wet his lips.

“You sound like you watch too many crime dramas.” He laughed, softly, now easily towering over her.

Anita was breathless. “Maybe.”

“Let’s have a marathon, then…” He traced her lips with his finger. “We could eat ice cream and fuck a little more…” He breathed, leaning in and kissing her neck again.

“Mmm. Yes, I love ice cream…” Her fingers tangled in his hair. Then she realized she was losing it.

“Oh my God.” She pulled away, breathing hard. “No! I lied. I don’t, no. No ice cream. No fucking. You’re married. I have a hair appointment. It was nice meeting you, again.” She wriggled out of her position against the wall. “Stop this. If you don’t want to stay in your marriage, don’t lead your wife on.”

There was definite sternness in her voice this time. 

Chris moaned in disapproval. “I’m _not_ leading her on.” He said, defensively.

 Anita scoffed. “ _Sure_ , you aren’t.”

“I’m _not_.“ 

“You know what you _are?”_

 Chris rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Married.”

 "I was married last night, too, that didn’t seem to bother you very much.“ He reiterated.

“I didn’t know!” She defended. “Besides. Now you’re _also_ my client. You’re paying me. It would be unethical on so many levels.”

Chris shrugged. “Technically, _I’m_ not paying you. Lucy is.”

“Even more reason _not_ to screw.”

 "Fine then, _I’ll_ pay you.“ But as soon as the words left Chris’ mouth, he laughed, and spluttered. "No, no, that sounds… Suggestive. It’s fine. Fine. Whatever." 

Anita laughed too. "Jesus.”

Sighing, he grumbled. “Alright. No screwing, I guess.” Regardless of what he said, the reluctance and disdain were incredibly articulated through his expression. 

“You’re also gonna have to get a new therapist.” Anita stated, simply, walking over to her desk and leaning back on it. “There’s no way in hell I can do this, given our history.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Lucy won’t budge, since my record is so good, so either you tell her or I’ll tell her than prior to me being aware you were in a relationship, we had a fling or something.”

“I am _not_ telling her I fucked our marriage counsellor.” Chris said, stubbornly. “Besides. When she decides on something there’s no changing her mind." 

"She’ll change her mind when she finds out the woman putting her marriage back together has sucked her husband’s dick.”

“She’s _not_ finding out.” He growled through gritted teeth.

Anita cocked an eyebrow. “So what do you plan on doing then? This is clearly a conflict of interest." 

"You don’t seem interested.” He eased up, laughing again, and scratching the back of his head.

“Funny." 

"Well, _I_ think we just need to forget about this whole thing.” He stated, pompously.

“What?! That’s what I was doing until you’re the one who came onto me, again!”

Chris just laughed, sheepishly, his hands now deep in his pockets.

Anita shook her head, “Okay. Here’s the deal. Either you find a way to convince Lucy to go to another counsellor, or you tell Lucy the truth yourself, or I’ll convince her by telling her the truth about us fucking." 

Whenever Anita brought up the statement, Chris would tense up again. Any trace of joking was long gone from the atmosphere. 

"You’re not fucking telling her.”

“Yeah? And who’s gonna stop me.” She glared at him.

“You’re not going to tell her. Simple as that. You wouldn’t do that.” He said this bluntly, as if he knew every single thing about Anita there was to know.

“Listen you fucking prick—” Anita cleared her throat, “Listen, _Chris._ Are you really questioning my integrity? You’ve known me for a whole fucking five minutes. Don’t test me." 

"I can sense in those whole five minutes you’re not the type to compromise their entire business for the sake of their integrity.” He stated.

He had her attention now. “What do you mean?" 

Chris stopped in front of the desk again. "I might not know you, fine, but I know Lucy. Too well. If she finds out, she’ll leak it to press that our marriage counsellor is a ‘husband stealing bitch’, and she’ll go scot-free.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand that I had _no_ idea and you weren’t even my client at the time—”

“She won’t.” He said plainly, shrugging. “You can take your chances. I’m not really losing much, I want a divorce anyway. But don’t hold your breath when it comes to Lucy running on spite and revenge.”

Anita bit her lip out of habit. “Maybe I could tell her I just don’t have the time to take on another client?”

“You could try that. But she’d probably take it personally. You know your new clients Neil and Josephine Foster? Jo’s Lucy’s best friend. She’ll think you’re bullshitting and _then_ probably leak to the press you’re a conniving bitch or something.”

“I’m really starting to hate your wife.” She grumbled.

"Mistress trait?“ Chris joked, and Anita swatted his arm with the roll of papers in her hand. "Kidding! Kidding. Sorry.”

As much as she laughed it off, she knew this was a storm in the making. A fucking tsunami was about to sweep her out of her $1,024 Louboutins into the sea, where she and her career would drown and die because she just couldn’t keep it in her pants.

She knew Chris probably had a smug triumphant look on his face. After all, she was defeated in telling Lucy the truth, so he’d won there. Anita stared at her feet, refusing look up and see the face of the man who practically ruined her life at 24. She took a deep breath and sighed.

So she was surprised to see that when his fingertips grazed her chin to look up at him, his expression wasn’t pleased at all. In fact, it was hurt, pitiful and sympathetic. Definite traces of sadness in his eyes. 

“Hey, listen… I’m really sorry I got you into this mess.”

“Yeah. I’m a little mad about that too.”

“I should have been honest.”

“Kind of late for that.” She said, bitterly.

“I feel awful for involving you and putting you in this position. I’ll make it up to you, I promise, alright?”

Anita just pursed her lips.

He sighed. “I’m really, _really_ sorry. But I think I have a way we can fix this?”

Her features perked up. “Keep talking.”

"Only you and I know about us fucking, right?“ He clarified.

"Yes, sir.” She said, ignoring the twitch she could swear she saw in the crotch area of his sweats, when she had jokingly said ‘sir’.

He shook his head a little, laughing, “okay. Okay that’s good. Great.” He paused. “Here’s my plan. Let’s just forget about this, and then do two weeks of sessions, I’ll pretend to cooperate with Lucy and after she realizes that there’s no use, and this is a waste of time, money and effort, we’re both off the hook, and no one gets punched in the face.”

Anita mulled it over for a moment. “One problem: I can tell Lucy’s done her homework on counseling. Stats show that you can only start seeing improvement after at least four weeks.”

Chris hissed through his teeth. “Alright, we do four weeks then.”

"Might have to do six.“ She groaned. "Changes begin occurring at four, but she’ll be confident with the efforts at six.”

"Fuck. Fine, alright. Six weeks. But no more.“

"Perfectly fine with me. The less time I have to risk my ethical standings and career, the better.”

“Sounds like a plan then, yeah?” He still had that pitiful look in his eyes and it was starting to make Anita feel ridiculous.

“Yeah, since it’s the only decent plan we’ve got that doesn’t put me out of a job.” She turned away from him, back to her desk.

“See you next Sunday, then?“ 

“Sure. I’ll get someone from reception to call you.” Anita was absently checking her phone, trying to avoid eye contact with Chris. She could feel tears pricking her eyes and she _really_ didn’t need this now.

“Alright. Sorry, again.”

_Can you please leave my office with your big sad puppy eyes since I’m the one risking my whole career here, because you couldn’t let a girl know you had a fucking wife who also happens to be a press influencing spiteful prick._  

“Yeah, yeah. Got it. You’re sorry, anyway, I have an appointment so,” She made a shooing motion with her hands and Chris laughed a little.

“Right. Sorry.”

_If you say sorry one more time._

He paused at the doorway once last time, before awkwardly waving and finally seeing himself out.

Madeline’s eyebrows quirked up at the scene, from her position at the front desk. Anita just frantically motioned for her to come into the room.

“What’s up?” Maddie asked, once the door was shut. “Also, I’m getting my nails done later and can’t decide between candy apple red or a pearly white with gold detail, which do you think—”

“I fucked a married client and his wife is apparently Satan incarnate.”

Madeline’s eyes widened.

“Okay.” She laughed. “Then there’s that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/asks and nice and make me update faster!!!! thanks for reading :-)  
> blushingbinch.tumblr.com


	4. Yesterday

Impartial third party. Anita was an impartial, unbiased, third party. That was her job. That was the point.

Except she secretly hated the position her stupid client’s husband had put her in. And she hated the fact that her stupid client was a pretentious, conniving bitch. So she hated having to listen to this stupid client’s problems even  _more._

So instead she was a partial… slightly biased… full of regret and cookies, third party. Regardless, Anita begrudgingly prepared herself for the hour every Sunday afternoon where she was to magically mend Chris Evans and Lucille Patricks’s marriage.

The session that followed the first and Anita’s undesired run-in with Chris was absolutely atrocious. The promise Chris had made Anita, to cooperate, had apparently conveniently slipped his mind, so they sat in awkward silence for an hour. Lucille talked occasionally, glaring at Chris every couple minutes out of the corner of her beady eyes.

Anita groaned internally and called it a day. She also ensured to pull Chris aside at the end and yell at him, one fist wrapped tightly around the fabric of his shirt collar—  _“Do you fucking enjoy ruining my career? Fucking cooperate so I can rid myself of both you and your wife as clients! You made a promise!”_

He had that terrified look on his face, swallowing hard with a nervous grin and a  _“Yeah, yeah, right, o'course. Sorry.”_

To Anita’s relief, the next week he actually kept his word, and to everyone’s surprise, the effect of his cooperation was astonishing.

When Chris started actually answering questions instead of deflecting them, Lucille began opening up as well. And as much as Anita wanted to dislike Lucy, there was something about the way she spoke and what she said that confused the living hell out of Anita.

To any outsider, Lucille was a bitch; there was no denying this. But to Anita, ‘Lucille The Bitch’ was started to become ‘Lucille The Intriguing Piece of Work.’

Anita blamed it on her instincts as a psychiatrist, but she was determined to solve the puzzle that was Lucille, and her mysterious relationship with Chris. She was so determined she got Madeline to dig up everything published about them… Ever.

_“Did you know she was deported from New Zealand for bringing her pet ferret in 2004. I want a pet ferret.”_

_“Anita maybe you shouldn't—”_ Madeline had tried.

Anita just stuck out a finger to silence her, taking a generous bite of her apple as she read, mumbling between mouthfuls,  _“Shh! Shh… I’m getting to the good stuff.”_

The more she read, and the more Lucille talked, the more Anita realized maybe Lucille wasn’t the awful person in the relationship… Which left the one and only…

“You don’t think he cheated on her?” Madeline had voiced her thoughts after week three. Her and Anita were sitting in Anita’s office, Monday afternoon, gossiping away about clients. Or one client in particular.

“Well he cheated with me.” Anita pointed out, “And more probably.”

She rebuffed, “Those don’t count—” 

“The fuck do you mean those don’t count?! ‘Course they count!” 

Maddie sighed, “I mean  _before_  they separated. Before  _she_  cheated.”

“That doesn’t minimize what he did…” Anita grumbled. She took a deep breath. “But, nah, I don’t think so. He wouldn’t make it such a big deal had he also cheated before.” She stuck her hand out with a triumphant finger wagging pointedly. “You know what I think? I think they were trying to get pregnant.”

Madeline’s eyes widened. “Really? Did she bring it up?” 

“No, but whenever I bring up future or kids they both deflect. Chris more so, she just stares at him with pleading eyes all the time. Or with a bitch stare. It alternates, I’ve noticed. She’s either crying or cursing him.”

“Their sex must suck.”

Anita scoffed, “I highly doubt they’re having sex right now.“ 

There was a soft knock on the office door that made Madeline turn around and Anita to take her feet down from her desk. It was one of the receptionists, calling Madeline out for something, so she left.

Less than a minute later Madeline returned.

“What’s up?”

“Lucille and Chris are here.”

“Why? It’s Monday.”

“Lucille looked pissed.” Madeline continued. “Like…  _Really_  pissed. Obviously she doesn’t have an appointment but she practically ripped my head off and demanded she speak with you.”

“Oh,  _God._  You don’t think she knows, do you? Fuck!“ 

“No, no, I think it’s about the magazine. Breathe, Nita, you already took care of it.”

“Right… Right.” Anita took a deep breath. “It’s fine. Fine,” She got up and straightened herself out. “Send her —them— in.”

Madeline gave her one last apologetic look, before leaving.

There was about ten seconds of silence before Lucille Patricks stormed into the office, Chris trailing pathetically and lazily behind her.

“What the fuck is this!  _You said_  we had confidentiality!”

She slammed a tabloid down onto Anita’s desk.

_“We have some exclusive Hollywood gossip. Chris Evans and Lucille Patricks have split! Says an insider source. The couple, married for two years and together for six, apparently separated after Evans, 34, discovered that Patricks, 32, cheated with Orlando Bloom, 39, earlier this year!_

_The duo has since been attending marriage counseling, according to our insider, with the best in the business Dr. Anita Warner. We tried to contact Warner’s business, but have yet to receive a comment from her, Evans, Patricks, or Bloom._

_Bloom's estranged ex-wife however, Monica Hayland has commented that she “is not bothered by the rumours, for [she] and Orlando have been separated for well over two years, and it’s none of [her] business who he doesn’t or does f**k.”_

_What do you think? Are Chrisille over? The Hollywood hunk is now reportedly single, so watch out ladies!”_

Anita closed the magazine. “I’ve seen this.” She said plainly. 

“ _And?!”_ Lucille was livid. She was seething, her face so red she damn near looked like a tomato. Anita could tell Chris was the slightest bit amused by this.

“I’ve already spoken to PR and dealt with it. But I know for a fact the insider wasn’t anyone here.” 

“How do you know that?! They know fucking everything! It has to be someone here!”

Anita sighed. “Lucy. I’ve had so many clients, and I've  _never_  had a client exposed. How do you think my record’s so good? I know who I have working for me. Whoever leaked this  _isn’t_  working here.” 

Lucy gave out an exasperated sigh. “Then why don’t you fucking comment saying you don’t know anything about this?”

“Without commenting it’ll go away. If you comment it just adds fuel to the fire.”

“She’s right, Luce.” Chris said, softly, speaking for the first time, “It could’ve been anyone.” 

Lucy was still seething. “No. I think it was  _you_  who leaked it.” She pointed accusingly at Anita, “Any publicity is good publicity, right?” She said through gritted teeth. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Lucille, but I run a 100% confidential therapy clinic. How would publicity that states personal information about my clients be any bit beneficial to me?” 

“Well.” She said sharply, her eyes darting around the room before settling with a glare at Anita. “You might not have us as clients to have to worry about.”

Anita wasn’t the least bit phased by Lucy’s threat. “Okay.” She shrugged. “Does it look like I’m dependent on getting your business?” She was glad she wore her Prada two piece today, and this also gave her an out that her and Chris desperately needed. 

“Lucy, calm down.” Chris interrupted. He placed his hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off. Turning around Lucy grabbed her purse and stalked out of the office.

He only spoke when she was gone. “I’m really sorry about all that.”

“It’s fine.” 

“No, it wasn’t fair of her to accuse you like that.”

“It’s fine, Chris.” Anita’s eyes finally flickered up at him. He was staring at her, eyes full of worry, that stupid guilty look on his face. “Really. No big deal.” She reassured.

There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again.

“I don’t want to stay with her.” He sighed, turning around and throwing his arms up in frustration.

Anita raised her eyebrows. “Tell her that. Not me. Call a lawyer. I’m not exactly the right person to be expressing this to.”

“Can’t I just…” He groaned, running his hands across his face. “Can you be my therapist or some shit? I need to get this out.“ 

It was then that Anita finally took a good look at Chris’ face. As pretty as he was… He looked like shit. His eyes were sad, that spark of mischief she had once seen, long gone. Deep bluish toned bags graced the beautiful skin under his eyes, and his cheeks weren’t flushed their usual pink, rather they were pale. He had clearly not shaved for a little while, as his originally stubbly skin was now covered with an unkempt scruffy beard. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

Sighing, she nodded at the chair. “Of course.” She said. “Sit. Tell me whatever you need.”

He sat, sighed again, letting the air blow through his nose slowly. His chin was resting on a fist, and his eyes were shut tight. He opened his mouth to speak once, before closing it. He did that again, laughed humorlessly, before finally speaking,

“I don’t love her anymore. I fell out of love with her a long time ago.” He paused again. “I wasn’t the best husband. I know that. I neglected the smallest things soon after we got married. I didn’t think they mattered. She knew I loved her, just didn’t love her enough anymore to pay attention to details. But I was still there. I still tried. I never lied to her. And she betrayed me exactly where she knew it would hurt me most.” He spoke in a monotonous tone until the last sentence.

“What kind of things did you neglect, Chris?”

“Trivial shit.” He defended, but as he began to list things, his face twisted unhappily. “Anniversaries… birthday… other stuff. She wanted another dog once and I forgot the appointment we had made to go to the shelter. That pissed her off.”

“Why do you think that?”

He scoffed. “Think what? That it pissed her off? She’s not exactly the quiet type, Dr. Warner. She let me know exactly how pissed off she was.”

“Anita. Call me Anita. It makes it easier to open up if you feel like you know me.”

“Right. Okay. Anita, then.” 

“So, you’ve expressed your disdain for the relationship. And from what I gather from both of you, communication really isn’t an issue. Is there anything else you’re not telling me that could help me understand the situation better and by doing so actually help?”

“It’s…” He paused. “It’s not relevant. Well. It is. But I can’t tell you because you’ll look at me like I’m an awful person and I really don’t need that from you too.”

“I promise to be unbiased. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “We were pregnant.” Sighing, he paused again, waiting for Anita to add something, but she simply nodded for him to continue. “We lost it.”

Anita continued to wait for Chris to elaborate. He was chewing his bottom lip nervously, gripping the chair with his arm, veins bulging.

“I didn’t go to the OB appointments before. I had work or I forgot. But when she had the miscarriage, I was in Prague, shooting, and by the time I got back it was too late.” He rubbed his eyes, but he didn’t cry. “She acts like me being in another fucking country and not being here for that is equivalent to when I forgot the OB appointments before she lost it. She acts like it’s my fault, like I never wanted it.”

“And how does that make you feel?” Anita finally added, though it was useless. She hated this part of her job. She had to wait for the client—Chris, to come up with the right answer himself, and in his own time. She knew how this made him feel. She just wanted to comfort the poor man and cuddle him. But she had a job, a stupid useless job.

“Like shit. Makes me feel just as heartless as everyone in my fucking life is making me out to be.”

“Did you want the baby?” Anita pried.

“I love kids. I want kids. A baby.” Silence. “Not necessarily with her. I know I didn’t want a baby with Lucy at the time… But that doesn't mean I wished for the opposite.” He added quickly.

“Why is that, do you think?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t in love with her? I’m not in love with her now. I know that. I know I want a family, a life a child with someone I actually could love.”

“You say ‘could’ love. Did you ever love her?”

“I… Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know. Everything was easy when we met. It sort of fell into place on its own. I was 28, needed to settle down. She was sweet and kind and mysterious. I had had my fun in my early 20s, and so I decided it was time. I wanted that. Family, responsibility. I wanted to want that.”

“And did you truly want that?”

“A little… yeah? I guess just not enough. So… No, not really. I really just wanted to have more fun. I wanted to be spontaneous. And no, no. Not necessarily with other women, or with more women. I just wanted to be with somebody who made me feel alive. I thought I’d get that from marriage.”

“And what do you want now?”

“What I thought I wanted then.” This time he spoke confidently, all hesitation from earlier long gone. “Family. Companionship. But I want to feel alive again, like I’m in love and I would do anything for love. And I don’t have that with Lucy. I never did.”

“And do you feel you and Lucy will never have that in the future?” Anita asked.

“Would I be selfish if I said yes?”

“Do you think it would make you selfish?”

“Do you always answer everything with a fucking question?”

Anita’s top lip twitched up in a smirk. “Do you feel that I always answer everything with a fucking question?”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I try.”

He was smiling now, looking dazed at Anita through glossy eyes. “I never noticed how beautiful your eyes are.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Do you feel I am deflecting?” Chris retorted.

“Yes. And I feel like we were making some serious progress that you don’t want to face.”

“So… I can’t compliment your beautiful eyes?”

Anita laughed. “No, I don’t think that would be the most productive thing right now.”

“Alright,” he smirked, “at a later date, then.” He shifted in his seat, repositioning himself. “What were you saying?”

“Why don’t you think you could have a future like the one you want with Lucille?”

Chris groaned. “Right.”

“Right.”

“…Right.”

“You should really answer the question.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be a therapist?” He deflected again.

“You’re the one who asked for my help.” Anita said, defensively.

“No, no, it’s not that. I mean literally. What are you, like 22? Oh fuck—” His eyes widened, “For fuck’s sake please tell me you’re over 21. Oh my God I was so drunk it didn’t even occur to me, I just sort of assumed, I mean you were drinking and I assumed you bought your own and holy fuck. Fuck fuck—”

“Calm down, Chris. I’m 24, no need to get your panties in a bunch.”

Chris relaxed significantly. “Okay. Good. Still. You have an M.D and a super successful practice, and you’re 24?”

“Skipped a few grades, 2, 4, and 7. Got into med school after two years of undergrad and finished med in three.”

“Shit. Genius, I take it?”

Anita smirked. “A little.”

He quirked his eyebrow, something Anita was beginning to notice he did a lot when he was flirting or deflecting. She cleared her throat and straightened in her seat.

“Well again, where were we?”

“Talking about your age, your brain, and your eyes.”

“And your wife.”

Chris groaned. “Right.”

“So Lucy, did she know you didn’t want to have a child with her?”

“I’d much rather not talk about this anymore.” Chris said gruffly.

“You’re the one who said they wanted to talk.” Anita reminded him.

He laughed, more to himself than anything. “Maybe I just wanted to be alone with you again.”

“Do you endlessly flirt and sleep with women to get back at Lucy for cheating on you?”

His expression hardened for a split second, before cracking out into a grin again. “No. Just kissing frogs ‘til I meet my real princess.”

“Funny.”

“Maybe it’s you. That’s why the sex was so good.”

“Chris. I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

That glint of mischief was back, sparkling in his pretty blue eyes. Anita rolled her eyes and he shrugged, laughing it off again.

“Fine, fine. I’ll stop flirting.”

She saw the way his teeth pulled at his plush lower lip as he smirked. She scoffed, “Yeah you’d better.” She said with a smirk of her own, but secretly she hated herself for imagining those lips somewhere else.

_Today I learned I am so utterly fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and such make me update faster!!!! thanks for reading :-)


	5. Easy

There were certain things Anita would never admit to herself or anyone else.

Chris was sitting on the other side of her desk in one of the armchairs, reading a book on Buddhist philosophy. This had become a routine for two weeks since Lucy had confronted her about the tabloid. Chris had left that day apparently feeling ‘refreshed for the first time in a very long time,’ so he came back the following Monday. And the subsequent Thursday.

So they saw each other for an hour every Monday and Thursday. Anita would never admit it was the best part of starting and ending her week.

At first he’d talk. About Lucy, about their marriage, about the things he’d given up, taken away from himself and the things she’d taken from him.

On Monday he was angry.

“I fucking hate shaving. It’s a stupid waste of time and I like my beard, alright?” He had said stubbornly. It had been trimmed slightly since the previous time Anita saw him, now there was a clean edge and he had taken care of the God awful neck beard situation he had allowed to occur.

“Well, so long as you’re not being asked to shave for films, I don’t see how your facial hair is an issue relative to your marriage?” Anita had phrased innocently.

“No, trust me. It is. Lucy hates my beard. Even stubble, to be honest. It’s fucking crazy!”

Anita had waited for him to elaborate, like she always did.

“I shaved it out of courtesy towards her, for six. Fucking. Years. God that was stupid.”

“Did she ever ask you to shave? Or was that something you came up with on your own?”

“Yeah, course she asked. I wasn’t going out of my way for no damn reason. It was bullshit. She’d always piss me off and fuss about it.” He had smirked then, coldly. “I started growing it out, after I find out about Orlando, to piss her off.”

“Good for you, beards are sexy.” Anita accidentally let slip. Chris had snorted a laugh.

“What was that!?”

“Sorry! Sorry, I meant, ‘that’s an interesting way to retaliate at your wife.’”

“No you didn’t.” He winked, “you meant ‘yes, Chris your beard is very sexy.’”

“Not last week it wasn’t.”

He had feigned hurt, clutching his chest and gasping, “Ouch! Way to kick a guy when he’s down.”

“Just keeping that ego in check.”

“You know I’m fucking with you. I need someone who’ll bust my chops a little, the media and fans sometimes get out of control. Let me get away with too much shit.” He had gone nostalgic, shaking his head and chuckling.

“If you need someone to give you a hard time and call you a piece of shit, I’m your girl.” Anita winked, she knew she’d regret that later. “I’m glad you took care of that neckbeard though.” She then wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

“Neckbeards are totally all the rage right now, thanks.” He had ended the session grinning, and seeing him smile so widely for the first time made her go home with cheeks aching from grinning as well. She’d never admit that either. 

Other times he’d sit in comfortable silence, reading. Books on philosophy, usually eastern, astronomy and science, and occasionally tell Anita about an interesting thought or phrase he just had run by. She refused to admit she loved it.

On Friday he was enamored.

“See the issue is not that we have an ego or an ‘I’ component to every thought or action, the issue arises when you can’t differentiate that ego from other aspects of your daily life.” Anita was staring at the ceiling of her office, a bag of white cheddar popcorn sitting on her desk and Chris on the other side, with a novel in one hand.

“So what about questions?” He responded.

“What about them?” Anita laughed then, “No, that wasn’t me being shrink-y. It was a genuine question.”

Chris chuckled, “It says here that questions very often are attempts at satisfying your ego. What do you think? I don’t necessarily agree but there’s no denying that the fewer times you fuck around with questioning everything, the more peace you find.”

“But that’s just the thing isn’t it?” She grabbed a handful of popcorn, eating it between fragments of thought. “I think I disagree, at least in the practical sense. In spirituality alone, sure, the less you question, the more at peace you are. But in reality, questions, or more so, dissent, is completely vital to existing in peaceful society. You can’t just blindly accept things, when there are certain issues that need addressing. That’s kind of where I draw the line of applying spiritual practice into day to day activities. Questioning is so important.”

He paused, smiling fondly at her.

“What?” Anita laughed, nervously.

“Nothing,” He straightened up in his seat. “It’s… Fascinating. You’re so damn… Insightful, for someone so young. I was a hot mess in my 20s.”

“At least you were a _hot_ mess.” She joked and Chris simply flicked a piece of popcorn at her. “Thank you, though.” She moved a hair from her face to look at him more genuinely, “I like to think I have interesting thoughts to give. Also the fact that I was always younger than everyone in all my classes or making my life decisions. I had to mature pretty quick. It’s like my brain is really 30 right now.”

“That makes me feel a lot better about wanting to do more than kiss you right now.” Chris smiled, but Anita just scoffed, brushing off the literal offer and continued to eat the popcorn in handfuls.

Sometimes they talked about their interests. Their likes and dislikes. As the sessions progressed Anita felt herself spending just as much time talking as Chris did. 

“Did you catch the Clippers’ game?”

“Against the Celtics? Nah, I missed it. I keep up with the Raptors though.”

Chris cocked an eyebrow. “Raptors? That’s an interesting choice. Any reason why?” 

“Hometown. Raptors have been my favorite since like high school. And Kyle Lowry is my love.”

“I thought I was.” He winked and Anita laughed.

“Course. I didn’t know you kept up with basketball. You seem like a football guy.” She thought out loud.

“You can tell that just by how I look?” He snorted. “What gives me away?”

“Not your appearance, per say. And nothin’ in particular. Just pegged you as the football type.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?” Anita asked.

“The football type.”

“Don’t hate me,” She began, hesitantly, “I have no idea how the game even works.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

He threw his head back. “What the fuck!”

“Whatever, whatever. I’m kept busy enough with the basketball and hockey seasons so I don’t need any other stress in my life.“

“Hockey, huh? That’s super Canadian.”

“Oh, shut up.” Anita laughed, “You’re gonna whip that out on me all the time now, aren’t you?”

Chris smirked, “Yeah probably.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you. You wear that damn Maple Leaves hat all the time, are you a fake fan or what?” 

He laughed, clutching his left pec, “Yes, completely. I don’t keep up with hockey as much as I’d like, but I was up in Toronto a couple years back and a friend gave me the hat. It’s just super comfortable.” 

“Dumb.” Anita rolled her eyes, “Had you said you liked the Leaves I was gonna make you state every player to prove your allegiance to the cause.” She teased.

“Guys are such dicks about that.” He stated plainly.

“What? Acting like sports are their territory and treating women like shit about it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Yeah, they are.”

“You should come over some time. Have a beer, watch some basketball.” He offered.

“I don’t know.” Anita bit her lip. “Probably not, actually. It’s bad enough already that we’ve been spending so much time together.”

“What can I say?” He smiled, “I enjoy your company.” 

“My company or you just enjoy having _company_ in general.”

With that the atmosphere in the room shifted. The playful tone in Chris’ voice disappeared and his smirk was replaced with a hard expression.

“I get that you don’t want to acknowledge that there’s something here, because I’m married and you have your job to worry about, but don’t brush me off like I’m still that pathetic one night stand to you. I enjoy _your_ company, Anita. It’s why I stick around.”

 “What’s supposedly _here,_ Chris?

“I dunno.” He smiled, sweetly. “Whatever you want.”

She would never admit that she wanted every piece of him.

The Thursday that followed she agreed to lunch sometime. It was informal and probably an empty promise but she agreed.

She would never admit that she loved that he insisted on making her agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! stuff rly picks up next chapter,,,,,, so bear with me. comments are always nice and make me update faster! :-)


	6. Needs

It was Thursday again, and Chris was back in Anita’s office. Anita liked lying to herself and to everyone around her- well Madeline- that she and Chris were just friends and that the reason she kept him around so often was because he was good company and maintaining a friendship with him was easy. Besides, he was married. Taken. Unavailable. And Anita had morals. She wasn’t an asshole. _At least not in this scenario._ But it only took three weeks of Chris, and even she was beginning to realize this was an awful idea.

Probably because she couldn’t stop staring at his mouth and tongue. Or the way his teeth playfully bit down on his lower lip. She was beginning to lose her mind, trying not to delve too deeply into the fact she hadn’t had sex for little over a month. Celibacy just wasn’t her forte, okay? And keeping the stupid, married, taken, unavailable and dirty mouthed ‘friend’ around, was definitely _not_ helping one fucking bit. 

There was no real reason as to why she hadn’t been able to get a good fuck in the past month and a bit. After her original little escapade with Chris, she tried to go out and meet someone at a club a couple nights later.  Unfortunately going from picking up guys at a celebrity wedding, to now a decent club, included a large drop in the quality of the male specimen. Nevertheless, she had brought home a handsome brunette. Who fucking sucked in bed, at least in comparison to Chris. She compared all her sexual encounters to that of Chris from there on out.

She fucking hated how horny she was. She was a grown ass woman for fuck’s sake! Or at least, that’s what she’d tell herself before he’d enter her office, in a pair of jeans that hugged his ass oh _so_ well, and a t-shirt two sizes too small that conveniently showed _everything_.

She hated him. Anita absolutely loathed him. And Chris apparently didn’t notice, or she didn’t think he did. Aside from the frequent, fairly blatant offers of sexual favors, he pleasantly and absently read his book on astronomy, acting like he hadn’t practically offered to bend her over her desk five seconds prior. This was not working for her today.

She stood up abruptly and straightened out her skirt before running her fingers through her hair. “Fuck, it’s hot in here.” She grumbled.

“Want me to leave the room?” Chris joked, and Anita just stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Shut up.”

“You’re super wound up today.” He noted, looking up briefly from his book.

“Yeah, well you would be too had you not had sex in a month and a half.” She muttered under her breath.

Anita was never good at the art of snide comments going unnoticed. So Chris heard her, obviously, cocked an eyebrow and closed his book. Placing it on the desk he leaned back into his chair. 

“Oh? Why’s that?” His arms were up, behind his head, and his muscles bulged. Anita could feel her knees buckle a little.

“I’m trying to be celibate.” She said sarcastically, her foot tapping incessantly against the hardwood floor.

“Course you are.” He opened his book again.

“I’ve been a bit… Busy.” She fabricated. _How do you tell the man you’ve been fantasizing about that everyone else just isn’t as good?_

“That’s too bad.” He said, nonchalantly.

“Well unlike you, some of us don’t have the luxury to fuck around indefinitely and to our heart’s content. What voluptuous model are you sleeping with this week?” She snapped. 

He closed his book again, this time taking a sharp intake of breath. She knew she was pushing her luck.

“Don’t remember her name,” He said, snidely, “She had a nice ass though.”

“You’re a pig.”

“You’re being a bitch.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“You know I’m bullshitting.” He scoffed, “just cause you’re all uptight and tense because you’re not getting laid, doesn’t give you the right to act like I’m some man-whore. Besides,” he paused, opening his book again, “it’s not like anyone’s stopping you from going out and having a good time. That’s your choice.”

“It’s not completely false to think you’re a man-whore.” 

Chris scoffed. “Whatever. I like being a slut. At least I’m not the one who’s got a stick up their ass right now.” 

She hated that he was completely right. There was literally nothing, other than the fact she was ridiculously busy, stopping her from going and just getting laid. 

But there her opportunity sat, bulging muscles, scruffy stubble and all. She got up again, this time passing his chair and strutted straight to the office door. Locking it, she turned back to Chris who was looking around curiously.

“Where are you going?” He stretched his neck, twisting it around to see her.

She didn’t respond, just marched right back over to him. 

“What are you doing?”

“Going out and having a good time.”

She grabbed the book off of his lap and tossed it on the loveseat beside them, before climbing atop Chris and straddling him. His arms welcomed her, gripping her ass through her skirt, pulling her body flush against him and grinding her down on his hard dick.

She gripped his jaw, melding her lips down to his soft ones, before pulling away an inch to trace his lips with her tongue, slowly. Chris moaned audibly, his hot breath against her face, before pulling her into another kiss, his tongue slipping between her lips and battling hers for dominance.

Anita dragged her lips and tongue along his jawline, down his throat, before, sinking down to her knees in front of him.

“Woah, woah, you’re okay with this? What about me being married and all those other reasons you were against this in the first place— _O-Oh… Okay.”_  

His voice cut off into a moan when she tugged down his zipper and cupped his dick through his boxers. She ran her nails expertly along his length through the fabric before pulling down his jeans and boxers, letting belt clatter against the floor when they dropped to his ankles. His cock was hard, and standing tall it was just as she had remembered, impressive in size and curved just enough to make her feel a flutter in the pit of her stomach when she remembered the way it felt buried deep inside her. He moaned again when she dragged her nails again up his exposed length, this time along a throbbing vein. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked again, politely, through his strained voice. 

“Chris. I need to get off on something other than the faint memory of a pretty dick a month ago. Now do you want to keep talking and make me change my mind?” She brought her tongue to the base and licked all the way up once  “Or…” Taking his tip in her mouth, she bobbed her head, and flicked off the pre-cum from his slit with her tongue. “Do you want me to continue?”

“C-Continue, I’ll shut up now. Oh _God_. Fuck.”

Smirking, she continued, pressing her tongue against the underside and wrapping her lips around his slick cock again and stroked him, long and deep several times as she massaged his balls with one hand.

“Fuck… yeah… Just like that, faster.” 

Anita obliged, picking up speed, her mouth sloppily taking in as much of his cock with every bob of her head. His eyes were shut tight, but when she relaxed her throat, and deep-throated him, choking once for his pleasure and moaned against the base, they shot open and his hand involuntarily wrapped around her hair messily before holding her there for a second.

Her hand travelled from grasping his thigh to between her legs, dipped into her skirt and rubbed her clit through her panties, still sucking with saliva leaking from her mouth.

“Yeah, fuck, touch yourself.”

Hearing his voice between pants she moaned against his hard member again, and felt him twitch in her mouth. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, fuck, fuck, fuck.” His hands roughly bobbed her head faster, and she relaxed, allowing him to fuck her face. “Oh _god_ , yeah.” 

Speeding up her fingers against her clit she took him deep one last time and held him there, feeling his body tense up before he shot his hot seed down her throat. His groans echoed through the office, and were matched by Anita’s moaning as she pinched her clit and came, his limp cock still in her mouth.

They stayed in silence for a moment, breathing hard, before Chris spoke first.

“Holy fuck.” He laughed, panting, nervously, trying to tug himself back into his boxers and sweats. “Holy… Fuck.“ 

“Yeah.” Anita was trying to straighten out her hair, staring into the mirror on her wall, her post orgasmic haze wearing off.

“You weren’t as vocal as last time.”

“Last time, I was only vocal when your dick wasn’t in my mouth.“ 

There was something about coming fully clothed in your panties that was both exciting and shameful. She sighed, the sex bump in her hair standing straight up. She saw Chris get up from the couch through the mirror and come up and wrap his arms around around her from behind. He brushed the hair from her neck and gave her a sweet kiss where her neck met her shoulder. “That was amazing.” He paused, and she waited for him to speak again. “I don’t want to make it seem like I’m running out on you after that.” He stared into the mirror at her with soft eyes. “I only had half an hour. But I’ll see you Monday? Or sooner if you’d like. We could go to dinner.” He looked nervous asking. She wondered if he felt obligated to ask.

“I’m actually pretty busy this weekend.” She decided to spare him that much. Shrugging out of his embrace she tucked her shirt back into her skirt and began pacing around her desk looking from something to occupy herself. “Monday sounds good. Same time.”

“Oh, okay. Alright, yeah. Perfect. Monday.”

She knew she was going to regret this next request, but couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “Bring condoms.” She said, biting her lip in a way that she hoped came off as sexy. “If you’d like.” Pushing her luck, she winked.

His eyes glinted in that mischievous way that made her moan. “Sounds like a plan.”

He left then, smirking one last time, and Anita couldn’t help but smile to herself at the thought of Monday.

The rest of the day went slowly, no appointment were ever booked Thursday afternoon for Anita liked to do all her paperwork from the week. They rarely required any sort of effort unless Anita planned on sucking off any more clients.

A couple minutes or so till closing, Anita grabbed her bag and locked up her office, before waving goodbye to the receptionists. Madeline had taken the afternoon off and so after popping by to ensure everything was on track in her office, Anita made her way to the elevator.

Waiting for the number on the display to reach the 4th floor, she tapped her foot impatiently. When the large metal doors opened, however, she was met was a surprising sight.

Lucille Patricks. Wide eyed and breathless.

“Oh, thank God!” She looked significantly relieved at the sight of Anita which was a little bit unnerving.

“Lucille. I’m surprised to see you here.” 

Stepping out of the elevator, Lucy roughly ran her fingers through her curled blonde hair. “Listen, about that. Dr. Warner I’m so sorry, for accusing you like that a couple weeks ago. It turns out it was someone on set of my latest movie. They overheard my conversation on the phone with Chris and, God I feel like such a bitch for snapping at you like I did. I was completely out of line.”

“That’s alright.” Anita croaked, “You were just frustrated, completely understandable.”

“I heard Chris has been continuing with one on one therapy? His mother told me he was seeing someone about this whole mess. A professional. I assumed because he knew you he may be continuing here.”

“Yes, he’s here once a week.” Lie number one. Two times a week was ridiculous and Lucy would see right through her.

“Oh good, good.” Her voice trailed off. She stared at her feet now. “I feel like I ruined everything.” She whispered. “But I’m glad he’s still coming.” 

He sure is _coming_.

“I’m gonna try and speak to him about trying again with this. If you’ll have us as clients.”

“I’m not so sure, Lucy, it’s just I’ve taken so many new clients lately I’m not sure I have the room.” Lie number two.

“Please.” Lucy begged, “We really need this. And now that he’s more comfortable with you I feel like it may help him open up better here.”

“Lucy, hear me out. Maybe this whole situation is just too far gone. From what I understand from Chris, perhaps therapy isn’t the right way to go. I wouldn’t want you to spend all this money, time and effort and then be left where you started.“ 

She stiffened. “So what? You want me to just give up six years of my life? Divorce him without a second thought?” She snapped, “All due respect, Dr. Warner, but you’re not in this marriage. And you have no idea how my relationship with Chris works. Can you take us as clients, without having your judgement cloud our progress?”

“I really do feel like maybe this isn’t in the best interest of you or Chris.”

“So is that a no? You won’t even give us a second chance?” She was getting agitated and Anita could see the anger in her eyes.

Fearing the worst for her practice and her career, Anita sighed. “No that’s not it. Of course. If you feel that my services as a therapist will benefit your relationship, by all means. I can take you on as clients.”

“Thank you,”

Anita reluctantly pursed her lips and gave Lucy a weak smile.

“Yeah, of course, get someone at reception to book you in.” Anita then swallowed, the soreness in her throat evident, before stepping into the elevator and giving Lucy one last wave. Once the doors shut she felt the bile rise up and when the elevator hit ground floor she darted to the lobby washroom, flung open a stall door, knelt on the cold tile and hurled into the toilet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally,,,,, anyways talk to me!!! thanks for reading! blushingbinch.tumblr.com/ask or leave comments,,,, makes me happy and update faster 


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